


Reconnaissance

by nerdesque



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 13:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 11,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5830075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdesque/pseuds/nerdesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marlborough Academy- from the outside, it looks like an elite boarding school for snobby, wicked smart high schoolers. On the inside lies a covert training ground for the only the most cunning of spies; teenage girls. Tobin Heath comes to the school unaware of what the future held, but soon finds her way with the help of her two roommates; Alex and Christen.<br/>High School/Spy AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I heard the gate creak open through the thick, tinted glass of the limousine. I knitted my fingers together in my lap and took in my surroundings. Stone walls surrounding the immaculately manicured front lawn; easily twelve feet in height. Thick-trunked trees that seemed almost too perfectly spaced. The gravel popped against the reinforced undercarriage as I made my way on to the school grounds. The driver hadn’t opened the partition once since I got in the car. I was totally alone for the four-hour drive- I had been mentally keeping time- and I was unaware of what was lying at the end of the road. It was a school, I knew that much. A school for spies, too. But the challenges that I would have to face? The things I’d have to remember, improvise, the techniques I’d have to learn? Nothing excited or terrified me more. I could nearly hear the blood rushing through my veins. I became flushed with exhilaration. I drummed my fingers on the armrest by the window of the car. Late model Rolls Royce. Refurbished interior, bulletproof tires, windows, bombproof undercarriage and six escape hatches. Life vests were under the seats. Panic alarm in the headrest. They really weren’t messing around.

Finally, the driveway snaked to the front of the monolithic mansion, framed by tall stone pillars and heavy dark wooden doors. A small cluster of students stood in front of the building, wearing the same uniform that I had changed into before I had begun my journey. It smelled like sweat and new car smell. Not my favorite. A tall, angular-faced woman stood smiling, almost knowingly at the top of the stairs. I gulped silently before waiting for the driver to open the door. I could see the biometric access panel in the handle of the door when I got in. I heard the driver side door slam, and no sooner than the door to the limo opened that I was being ushered out one of the older girls.

“Welcome,” One of the girls said effortlessly. She had thick, dark hair that perfectly framed her features, and a smile so blindingly perfect that she had to have practiced in the mirror a hundred times to mix the proper blend of welcoming and daunting. I remembered my manners for salutations met her extended hand, clasping it gently. My back leg quivered, reminding me of the tendency to curtsy. I quickly remembered that we were in northern Virginia and not the deep South. I shook her hand, trying to get my fingers out of her crushing grip. Her smile glinted in the sun as she stood over me. I wasn’t giving up this easily. It was all just mind games. I stood firmly, breaking her dominant gaze after the correct amount of time. She smiled victoriously when she realized I hadn’t challenged her authority, but hadn’t rolled over either. I caught a glimpse of the headmistress nodding tersely in our direction out of the corner of my eye. She quickly released my hand. I swallowed and smoothed down my skirt after she finally released my hand.

“Hope, don’t scare the girl. Confidence, not dominance. Don’t freak her out.” I heard another student whisper as I made my way back to the trunk to collect my orientation packet. The welcome-r, Hope, I presumed, sighed defeatedly. I swallowed and suppressed a smile. I turned on my heel and made my way up the stairs, making careful eye contact with the rest of the students before meeting the soft-yet-stern gaze of the headmistress.

“Welcome to Marlborough Academy. I’m Headmistress Ellis. You must be Miss Heath.” I stood up straight and shook her outstretched hand firmly. I noticed a slight timbre in her voice- English, maybe?

“Pleasure to be here. You have a beautiful school.” Headmistress Ellis clasped my hand between her own and smiled. 

It was almost as if you couldn’t tell she’d done this 200 times in the past few hours.

“Thank you. Once you make your way inside, please orient yourself with your roommates. They arrived shortly before you did. Room 93. I’m sure you’re capable of finding it yourself.” The headmistress dropped my hand and turned to the side, ushering me through the threshold and into the foyer. If I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t have noticed the perfectly executed brush pass she performed to give me the key. I felt the cold metal dig into the palm of my hand as I hid a smile and strolled through the tall, heavy doors. 


	2. Chapter 2

The second I set foot in the mansion, my jaw hit the marble floor. Staircases twisted around the ivory pillars, spilling onto a second-floor landing. Ahead lied a library with collections of books, the sheer volume of which the Library of Congress would be in awe. Glass doors encased the thirty-foot high stacks and polished mahogany study tables. I could feel my eyes growing wider as I took everything in. I laid my hand gently on the banister, fearing that I’d somehow defile the varnish of the dark wood. I climbed up the stairs, my footsteps echoing down the wide hallways snaking through the building in either direction. The dust patterns grew irregular to my left; I deduced that that corridor was rarely used, and hardly the place for first-year students to snoop. I turned to the right, strolling down the hallway. The room numbers increased from 72 to 95, each etched carefully onto a polished brass plate above the door. I took in a deep breath and slid my key into the intricately carved keyhole. I twisted, and the door opened smoothly. I gulped and put the key back into my pocket.

If the foyer and library were any indication, the dorms were unlike anything I’d ever seen. The room was easily triple the size of an average dorm room. Three beds with exquisitely made hospital corners sat adjacent to the wall, two of them already claimed by the girl sitting atop them. The first one had her brown hair tied tightly against her scalp, leafing through the orientation packet I’d memorized line for line on the car ride there. The other was more tan, with her black hair thrown to the side in a makeshift braid. She started out the window mindlessly, observing the occasional bird or deer. I closed the door, and the two of them snapped to attention. I smiled meekly before making my way to the empty bed.

“This one taken?” I asked, only half jokingly.

The tanner one smiled and turned to me.

“Go for it.” I nodded and plopped myself down on the mattress. Ponytail girl was still reading, seemingly engrossed in the out-of-bounds policies of the school. The tan girl stood from her place on the bed and made her way over to me.

“Christen. You must be Tobin.” She held out her hand.

I took it gently. She smiled at me, not losing eye contact for a second. I gulped inwardly. I’d have to share a room with this girl? I was in for it.

“I’m Alex,” A rough voice sounded from across the room. I saw Christen’s gaze turn from me to the girl behind her as Alex raised her hand in a mock wave.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to memorize this before we’re inevitably quizzed on it.” I chuckled.

“Good luck with that.” Christen smoothed out her skirt and returned to her respective bed.

“I’m guessing you’ve already got it down?” Alex cocked an eyebrow, still not breaking her attention from the packet.

“Yeah, on the car ride here. Took about 10 minutes.” Alex laughed and turned the page.

The room fell silent. ‘Awkward’ couldn’t begin to describe the atmosphere. Christen coughed and played with the ends of her skirt. Alex swung her legs over the edge of the bed and threw the pamphlet to the foot of her bed.

“So,” Alex clasped her hands together. “What brings you here?” Christen looked at me expectantly.

“Well, uh, I got a letter saying that I showed an aptitude for languages and attention to detail based on my past performance. I got a phone call later, and I had an interview with Headmistress Ellis and… well, I guess you know the rest.” Alex nodded.

“How about you? What’s your story?” She asked, this time looking at Christen.

“My parents are both spies working for MI6. My mom graduated from here, and I’ve always looked up to her. So, I applied and… here I am.” Christen shrugged.

“What about you?” I asked. Alex turned to me and smiled. She crossed her legs and leaned against the wall.

“My dad’s ex-CIA. My mom met him when she was a journalist. He was deep undercover, but they fell in love and she joined the agency as an information liaison. Then she popped me out, and here I am.” She spread her hands. I nodded.

“So I’m the odd one out, I guess.” Christen and Alex chuckled nervously.

“If you got in, you’ve got as much potential as us. Headmistress Ellis is thorough. She wouldn’t have accepted you if you didn’t have what it takes.” I took in a breath. They didn’t have a reason to lie to me, and their breathing was steady. Their voices didn’t shake. Either they were telling the truth, or they were damn good liars. I glanced at Christen again. At first brush, she seemed perfectly normal. But as I observed her more closely, I picked up a few things. Red marks on her neck she’s tried to mask with concealer. A slightly bulkier left ankle. Abrasions on her knuckles.

“How long have you been playing violin?” I asked her. She sharply took in a breath.

“Huh?”

“How long have you been playing violin?”

“Six years.” She smiled nervously and furrowed her brow.

“How long has that ankle been sprained?” I nodded down to her left leg.

“Three weeks.” She pursed her lips.

“Did you win the fight?” She chuckled, focusing her attention to her swollen knuckles.

“Yeah. You should’ve seen the other guy.” She looked back at me bashfully.

“So you’re hyper-observant. Nice,” Alex smiled at me.

“I thought she hooked up with a guy and it got heated. Violin didn’t occur to me. I couldn’t have done that.” I saw Christen’s cheeks flush at the word ‘guy’.

“Is that your thing? You see stuff?” Alex looked intrigued. I shrugged.

“I guess. My dad used to make me close my eyes and tell me how many hats were in the room. He wanted me to be a cop,” I laughed.

“He got a spy instead.” They laughed at that, the first real laugh we’d had since meeting. Maybe things would be okay after all.


	3. Chapter 3

I paused before sliding between Christen and Alex on the long bench in the Dining Hall. The chattering of the older girls calmed my nerves, if only slightly. My gaze flitted around the room, from the professors to the older girls to the other first-years. I was smart to be scared, I told myself. Scared keeps you safe. Scared keeps you on your feet and sharp. It’s a good thing to be scared.

But when I jumped as Alex tapped my shoulder to turn my attention to the front of the room, I was reminded that being scared was a weakness, too.

Alex didn’t try to hide her smirk when I turned to her, eyes wide as a deer.

“You okay there, Tiger?” My cheeks reddened and I smiled nervously. It must have shown, because in one swift move she gripped my shoulder in a way that would suggest we’d known each other for more than two hours. “It’s okay to be scared. Just don’t let it show.” She said softly. She nodded tersely before breaking our eye contact. She tried to hide it, but I could see in her kaleidoscope eyes that she was terrified too. She just had a better mask. I turned to the front of the room as Headmistress Ellis took the podium.

“Welcome, sisters new and old.” She said proudly.

“ _De parvis grandis acervus erit_ ” The girls recited in unison. _Greatness out of small things._

“I am pleased to welcome our new sisters,” She gestured to the row of benches to her far left. Suddenly, the attention of the room focused to us. Some of us took in the attention proudly. Others shied away. But most of us just stared forward, totally unaware of what to do when you enroll in a school for spies and _are being introduced to the next generation of covert operatives._ I smiled gratefully around the room, making as much eye contact as I dared. The room exploded into applause. It took everything I had not to jump at the suddenness of the noise. Alex placed her hand between the curve of my hip and the small of my back to calm me down. My shoulders dropped and my breathing spaced out. I no longer felt like I was suffocating in the dining room that rivalled Hogwarts’ Great Hall. I let out a breath and leaned into her hand as a small, silent _thank you._ She applied slight pressure before taking her hand away. A part of me wanted her hand to stay there until it was all over. But I knew that it would just make me seem even weaker. I couldn’t afford to be the runt of the litter. Not on the first day.

“Marlborough Academy has a long, proud history of training strong, capable young girls to be the most formidable, unbreakable, and valuable spies. You are joining not only a student body, but also a sisterhood. Our founder, Miriam Marlborough became the first female spy in the United States to single handedly bring down an underground society, despite the lack of cooperation from the government. After her death, she selflessly dedicated all of her money and her home to train female spies. She died still believing in that dream. Today, you will become a testament to her. Today I implore you to do your sister proud and fulfil her dream, and follow your path. Thank you.” The room, again, erupted in cheers, earning some hoots and hollers from the more rambunctious students. The Headmistress grinned and took her seat. A smiling, dark haired woman stood at the podium and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Good evening, I’m Professor Foudy. I teach Biochemistry, Chemical Warfare, and Explosives here at the Academy. I’d like to welcome you all back for another year, hopefully without need for yet _another_ practice teargas drill,” The older students laughed at the inside joke, leaving us freshmen absolutely petrified.

“Don’t worry, we’ll tell you where we keep the gas masks,” She said, directed at the first-years. This earned more hoots from the upperclassmen. For a professor who teaches chemical warfare, she seemed pretty relaxed. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that yet.

“And now, please enjoy dinner.” The sound of silverware scraping against plates filled the room, leaving the rest of us to fall in line and take after the older kids. I took in a deep breath, hoping that I hadn’t made the wrong choice going to a school with electives such as _Treating the Black Plague in the 21st Century._ I turned to Alex, only to find that she’d already gotten up to get her dinner. I stood from the bench and followed the flock of students towards the buffet.


	4. Chapter 4

I pulled up my socks to my knees and tucked in my skirt. First school day. I’d memorized my schedule at this point; first Covert Operations, then World Languages, Combat Skills, Culture and Etiquette, History of War and finally Human Psychology. I padded to the wardrobe situated by the bathroom and tucked my hair up into a high ponytail. Today was a new day. A new chance to prove myself. Maybe I would find my pace alongside these math prodigies, programming wizards and hand-to-hand combat geniuses. Maybe I had something to offer after all. I shook my head trying to unsettle the doubt that had clouded my thoughts. Alex’s words echoed in my head as I slipped on my loafers. _You wouldn’t have gotten accepted if you didn’t have what it takes._ I swung my backpack over my shoulder and exited the dorm, only to find Christen and Alex standing idly by the door in the hallway. Alex had one leg propped up on the wall and her hand tucked into her blazer pocket.

“You good?” She asked. I nodded and smiled. Christen grinned and started walking down the hallway. I caught pace with her near the end of the corridor. Her skirt was wrinkled from where she'd tightened her fist around it and her cheeks were flushed, even more so than usual. Her palms were clammy and her breathing was shallow. The conclusion was obvious.

“Nervous or excited?” I blurted. She furrowed her brow and turned to me.

“Huh?” She asked incredulously.

“You seem on edge. Nervous or excited?” She chuckled.

“Both. Definitely both.” I nodded and let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah, me too.” I all but murmured. She looked like she was about to reply when Alex swung her arm around our shoulders and pulled herself between us.

“First day. Breathe it in kids. It only happens once.” She tipped her head back and sucked in a deep breath. Christen laughed, and I decided to follow suit. I had both of them in all but one of my classes-Human Psychology.

Alex fell into step beside up as we proceeded down the stairwell to the Dining Hall and took our usual spot near the back of the room. We waited for the rest of the students to file into the room before putting away our various textbooks and the occasional shiv or stun gun. The nervousness in my stomach bubbled up again, but I did my best to keep a calm presence and exhume confidence. Headmistress Ellis took the podium once again.

“Good morning, sisters. I hope you all slept well,” She gripped the front end of the podium and rested some of her weight against it. “Today we begin classes once again. Once you hear the first bell to end the class, that signifies that you have five minutes to change classes. The second bell denotes the end of the five minutes. Punishment for tardiness will vary based on the professor. My advice?” She looked down at all of us individually with a small smirk.

“Don’t be late.” That remark earned a chuckle from the professors and the students alike. I laughed too, but more out of nervousness than humor. I hoped that I just had a bad case of first-day jitters and not a sixth sense that something awful was going to happen to me.

“You’re dismissed for breakfast.” The room fell into clamor as soon as she uttered the first syllable of _dismissed_. I walked up to the bar with Christen and Alex. Alex swerved to the packed bar that was serving custom crepes from one of the chefs. I went with waffles and fruit, and Christen did the same.

“Can’t wait for Cove Ops,” She ladeled more syrup onto her waffle. “Maybe I’ll finally learn how to engineer an earwig.” Our shoulders bumped together softly. 

“World Languages for me all the way.” I shook my head and spooned grapes into my bowl. “I’ve always wanted to learn Farsi.” She threw back her head and laughed. I grinned despite myself. I felt the knot in my stomach loosen up as we made our way back to the table where Alex had already begun devouring her crepe.

“Bon appetit.” Christen lifted her fork and knife before slicing her waffle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lil chapter I wrote during study hall because i guess creativity is a friend of procrastination. also, i'm introducing Vero Boquete because she is my honey and deserves the entire universe and writing her as a teenage spy badass is pretty much the only thing i'm capable of :)

I slid into the desk towards the back and all the way to the side; the closest desk to the door. I crossed my legs at my ankles and waited for the rest of the students to file in. Christen brushed past me and ran her hand delicately across my shoulders before taking the seat next to me.

“Hey stranger,” She grinned and pulled out her spiral bound notebook. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” I chuckled and focused my attention to the front of the room where the professor stood.

“Good morning ladies,” He said easily as she turned to the board. “I’m Professor Dorrance and I’ll be teaching Covert Operations. Before we begin, can anyone tell me what _Covert_ denotes in the term Covert Operations?” Christen’s hand shot up. Professor Dorrance nodded to her in acknowledgment.

“Yes, Miss Press?” Christen smiled.

"Made, shown, or done in a way that is not easily seen or noticed.” I heard a few of the girls mutter in disapproval. It seemed as Christen was deaf to the opposition as she gazed up at the professor with a meek grin, eagerly awaiting praise. Professor Dorrance smiled, not mistaking understanding for easy praise. He looked at Christen with a glance so sharp it turned to daggers through the lenses of his glasses. He rested a hip against his desk and crossed his arms.

“Perhaps we should call you Miss Webster, seeing as you must have scoured the dictionary for that verbatim definition.” The class chuckled quietly. Christen reddened and slumped in her seat. Professor Dorrance had certainly knocked her down a few pegs. The professor turned to face the other side of the classroom, scanning the wide eyes of the young students.

“Now, who can tell me why Covert Operations is the very first class you take here at Marlborough Academy?” Silence hung heavy in the room.  I scanned the room anxiously until someone across the room raised their hand and held the eraser of their pencil delicately between their lips.

“Yes, Miss Boquete?” She sucked in a breath and tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

“First and foremost, it keeps you alive,” She said in a thick Spanish accent. She paused to take a breath, looking around at the room to see if she should continue talking. “When you’re on a mission or in the field, being covert is the difference between life and death.” She shrugged and slid lower into her seat.

“Correct.” She let out a breath and set her pencil down. I blinked and turned my attention back to the professor. After Professor Dorrance started rattling on about a particularly unfortunate event which involved 1987, a perm, leopard print leg warmers, and a few Russian warlords, I chose to observe the other girls in my class to assess the competition. Eventually my eyes settled on the curly-haired Spanish girl. She had a small frame, with a strong nose and pale green eyes. I didn't make the mistake of judging her by her size. I could tell that her muscular physique would give even the heaviest assailant a run for their money. 

She must have caught on to me studying her features and turned her head to smile shyly at me. I blinked and looked away, embarrassed. I met her soft gaze again, smiling back. She nodded and focused back on the lecture, this time migrating to a riveting conversation about avoiding radar. I sighed. First class and I'd already been caught staring at someone. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my swedish and german are so awful but yooooo new chapter

 

“God dag,” The professor for World Languages entered the room and adjusted the thick spectacles on her face to read the thin, almost translucent paper in her hand. She showed no emotion as her eyes scanned the page. In one swift move, she crumpled the paper and tossed it into the pot of deep purple pansies sitting on her desk. She strolled to the other side of the room and grabbed the small, rusted watering can sprinkled water on the plant and the paper. The paper disappeared into thin air with a slight sizzling noise and a puff of water vapor. I parted my lips slightly in awe. She turned sharply to the front of the room and lifted her chin in dignified authority. 

“Jag är professor Sundhage. Jag är lärare för denna klass,” She stepped out from behind her podium and removed her glasses.

“By the looks of it, Swedish isn’t your strong suit.” She said almost condescendingly in her nondescript accent. She smirked slightly and turned her back to the class.

“Tack för att lära oss. Vi kommer att göra allt vi kan för att lära.” The student blurted out her thanks while she still had the attention of the Professor. The entire room swerved to face the girl who spoke in perfect Swedish on the first day of class. She had her dishwater blonde hair pulled into a short, tight ponytail and exhumed intelligence without being hubric. Her delicate, yet scratchy voice uttered out another phrase.

“Jag trodde inte att jag skulle vara den enda som talade svenska.” I chuckled. With just that one noise, the class turned to me, again attracting the full attention of my peers; and, more dangerously, Professor Sundhage.

“Du är inte.” I said, my voice barely reaching above a whisper. The professor cocked an eyebrow. 

“Miss Heath is right, Miss Klingenberg,” Professor Sundhage paced back to the other side of the room where the smaller girl sat. 

“You’re not the only one who speaks Swedish,” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. As she turned to me and offered a small wave. I pursed my lips and nodded downwards at her. 

“Vielleicht sollten wir weitergehen, oder?” She switched to German this time, not wasting a minute to so much as breathe. 

“Könnte sein.” I heard a small voice echo from the row of seats in front of me. A black-haired girl with a prominent German nose tucked her chin to her chest. The professor smiled yet again. 

“Perhaps Miss Krieger can tutor you all in the phonetics of German.” The professor gestured loosely to where Miss Krieger sat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and pride. 

“Now that we have that out of the way,” Professor Sundhage turned her back to us, picking up a long piece of white chalk. She threw her gaze over her shoulder, a sharp glint in her eye. 

“Let’s get to class.”

Professor Sundhage placed the piece of chalk in a small divot I had mistaken for a dent in the brass framing of the chalkboard. The piece of chalk disappeared into the attached wall, and the walls boxing us in unfolded at the sides of the room. The gasps of the girls was masked by the groaning of the metal as the room expanded. Stainless steel replaced the drywall, and rows upon rows of books lined the polished shelves of the room. The gaze of every student flitted to the expanding width of the room, hungry eyes taking in every new inch of the place as it unfolded like an accordion. Finally, the expansion ended and the walls locked in place. We all turned to an amused Professor Sundhage, our eyes wide with a mixture of fear and amazement. 

“Lesson One: not everything is as it seems. Even the banality of painted walls can hide a much more intriguing truth.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Did you see the look on her face?” Alex’s face exploded into a grin as she caught stride beside me. I managed a nervous chuckle. She gently nudged my shoulder.

“Shit, Tobs,” She shook her head in disbelief.

“What? My broken, mispronounced Swedish? It’s really not that impressive.” I shook my head. Alex snorted.

“Better than I could do,” She mumbled. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Anyways, I said, like, four words. And I probably used the wrong tense or whatever.” I looked at my feet. The more classes I took, the more I felt out of place. I wasn’t a spy. I was a kid from the middle of nowhere New Jersey who liked to play soccer and watched too many crime shows. I certainly wasn’t cut out for this kind of life. Christen and Alex were groomed for this kind of opportunity since they were little. This was their world. I was just living in it.

“Oh, please,” Alex punched me in the shoulder. I winced. That girl didn’t know her own strength.

“Don’t talk like that, Toby,” Alex swung her arm over my shoulders.

“Don’t call me Toby,” I whined, ducking under her arm. She laughed. Christen caught stride beside me.

“You really shouldn’t call her that. She’ll deck you.” Alex threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, please. Tobs wouldn’t do that to me, would ya?” Alex put her fingers under my chin and squeezed my cheeks. I giggled. Christen grit her teeth.

“Call me Toby again and you’ll find out.” Alex’s eyes widened and she broke into a grin.

“Ooh, a challenge. I like that.” Alex rubbed her hands together. Christen snorted.

“You won’t when Tobs is done with you.” Alex cocked an eyebrow. My cheeks reddened. Christen smirked and looked at her feet.

\----------------------------------------------------------

From the outside, it looked like a gym. I expected it to be like any other recreation facility; basketball hoops, wood floors marked with various geometric shapes. But if this place had taught me anything in my few short hours, it was that nothing was as it seemed. Christen pulled the door open and held it for Alex and I. As soon as I walked into the building, I knew that I’d leave with a few more bruises than I’d expect. Alex, Christen, and I lined up alongside the other girls in our class.

“Welcome, ladies. My name is Professor Scott, I’ll be your Combat Skills coach. Before we begin, I’ll need to assess each of your skills. Please proceed to the designated stations where we can get a baseline for your skills.” She blew her whistle and we all fell out of formation. The three of us proceeded to the mats below the rock climbing wall.

“Hello, ladies. Please strap yourselves in and begin belaying.” The coordinator turned their back to us and began filling out their sheet. I held the pieces of rope and metal in my hands, totally unsure of what to do.

“Here, let me help you.” Christen gently laid her hands on top of the equipment and smiled at me.

“Thanks.” I stood with my hands on my hips, looking at the back of Christen's head working the harness between my legs. I had to admit, the sight wasn't all that awful.  
“Step in here,” Christen held the loops at ankle height and gazed up at me. I did as she told me. She pulled the harness up my legs. Christen moved her hands to my midsection and tugged on the belt mechanism. I held my hands out to my sides. I took note of her slightly parted lips and fixed, unblinking stare. I swallowed.

“Okay, that’s all for this part. I just need some rope…” Christen paused, looking for some rope.

“I got it,” Alex piped up and sauntered towards me. She fed the rope through the loop and knotted it delicately. She tugged on it, which caused me to stumble closer to her until our bodies were pressed together.

“Oops. Sorry,” She gazed up at me below her eyelashes. The smirk on her face said otherwise. I managed a breathy laugh. My gaze flitted to Christen who was busy tying her own rope. She must have been having trouble because her jaw was clenched and she couldn't stop tugging too hard on the rope. 

“You’re done,” Alex’s fingers caught on the loops of my harness for a moment longer than needed. Alex didn't bother to help Christen.

“Thanks.” I gulped. This was going to be the longest class of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo what's up party people. I haven't updated this in a while but this hoe is back on the recon train. tell me if ya want anything in particular to happen, I'll see if I can write it in


	8. Chapter 8

My feet hit the mat with a solid _thud_. As soon as my knees and ankles felt the recoil of landing with my full weight, I had to bite my lip to suppress a cry. Every part of my body ached. I was a pretty agile climber, but having to climb while dodging machine guns protruding from the walls, avoiding security cameras and communicating to a tactical team could get to me on even my best day. Alex and Christen wrung out their hands and stretched. They wouldn’t show it, but they were tired too.

“Good job, Heath. You made it back down." The instructor paused. "...But you missed a camera.” The instructor pointed to the small lens on the face of the rock. I grit my teeth and silently cursed myself. I should have seen it.

“Thank you. I won’t make the mistake again.” The instructor placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I know you won’t. Move to the next station.” The instructor hitched a thumb behind their shoulder.

“Morgan, Press. You got out clean. Move out.” Christen and Alex both stiffened, giving a respectful ‘thank you’. The instructor gave a curt nod and turned to the next group. Immediately their framed softened and they winced in pain. I fumbled with the knot on my belt. I untied the hope from my harness and loosened the buckles before stepping out. Alex and Christen followed suit.

“Christ,” Alex leaned over and put her hands on her knees, trying not to pant. She breathed out and grinned up at me. “Remind me why I came here again?” She turned her head to Christen.

“I was about to ask the same question.” Christen chuckled. Alex smiled and stood up fully.

“Next station?” Alex questioned. I turned my head.

“Uhh, I think we’re sparring.” Christen and Alex looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes and shared a smirk.

“You’re going down.” Alex turned to Christen and let out a laugh.

“In your dreams.” Alex blew her a kiss. Christen shot me a look as if to assure me that there was no way that Alex could win against her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And… Begin,” The instructor quickly backed away from Alex and Christen. Christen had her weight balanced on her toes, coiled like a python waiting to attack. Alex, conversely, balanced herself backwards. Christen crossed one foot over the other, sidling across the ring to gain a better angle. Alex maneuvered to avoid Christen’s angling. Christen lashed forwards, landing a swift jab on Alex’s thigh. Alex pivoted behind Christen and pinned her arm behind her back, picking her up and throwing her to the ground. Christen let out a cry of pain before rolling onto her back and wrapping her legs around Alex’s neck and twisting. She threw Alex like a limp ragdoll. I watched her body spin in midair and land heavily on her back. Christen scrambled up and moved towards Alex. Alex swept Christen’s leg and watched her tumble to the ground. Christen rolled and jumped to her feet before running to Alex and pinning her to the ground. Alex struggled against Christen’s hold on her wrists to no avail. Christen smirked. Alex rolled her eyes.

“I give.” Alex spit the words bitterly. Christen beamed.

“We have a winner. Good job, Press.” The instructor praised Christen. Christen smiled politely. Christen turned to me and exited the ring. Alex brushed her clothes off and hung her head in defeat.

“That was amazing! Both of you,” I smiled at both of them. Alex pursed her lips.

“I’ll get you next time, Chris. Count on that.” Alex punched her arm. Christen chuckled and blew the flyaways out of her face.

“Sure, babygirl.” Christen made kissy faces at Alex. I laughed. They picked up their bags and proceeded to the exit of the gym. We walked across the quad and scaled the hill, trying not to pant from the steep incline. When we finally reached our dorm, the sun was setting behind the woods surrounding the school. As soon as the door closed behind us, we collapsed on our beds and groaned.

“I think my knees are made of rubber.” Alex whined.

“I need a thigh transplant.” Christen rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball.

“My entire body is in pain. I am a walking bruise.” I tried to laugh at that comment but instead wheezed. My lungs couldn’t expand anymore.

“This has been… The strangest day of my life.” I grinned.

“But I don’t exactly hate it.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and grabbed my pajamas. I changed, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and went to be. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light. 


	9. Chapter 9

I woke to Alex shaking me gently. The sun had just risen, the light pouring through our window to spill onto the dark wooden floorboards in an aubadinal fashion. I squinted to focus on her features, backlit by the early morning sunrise.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” She tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. Her touch was gentle, almost too gentle compared to the rough housing that I’d faced yesterday. A wave of something, maybe nausea, hit me.

“Fuck.” I muttered under my breath. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, immediately groaning in pain. I massaged my neck as Alex sat on the corner of my bed.

“What time is it?” I asked her. She slid the sleeve of her pajamas up her arm and checked her watch.

“Almost six. I figured you’d want me to wake you up rather than-” A loud siren blared through our dorm, effectively cutting her off. My muscles contracted and I immediately lunged for Alex, clinging onto her for dear life. Christen got the worst of it. She toppled out of bed, hitting her head against the wall and rolled onto the floor in a tangle of blankets. The siren cut off after the third blare.

“That.” Alex grumbled. I lifted my head from her shoulder.

“WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THAT?” Christen hollered. She rose to her feet, still in her sleepwear. She paced around the room, trying to locate the source of the noise. She glanced at the upper corner of our room. She jumped on her bed and reached.

“What-” She pulled the mechanism down and inspected it. I scrambled off my bed and sat next to her. I felt the mattress dip as Alex sat beside Christen.

It was a tiny mechanical speaker, with uncovered metal cogs and a small electronic sticker, probably using the acoustics of the room to bounce the rather minimal sound it produced off the walls to amplify it. I pondered. That was why there was no carpeting. My brow furrowed. How could one room manufacture that much noise? My head snapped to the window. The bug was a decoy.

“Do any of you have a camera?” I stood from the bed.

“Uh, yeah, why?” Christen tilted her head at me.

“I think…” She handed me the camera from her bag. I opened the side hatch and took out the infrared inhibitor. I closed the hatch and held the camera to the window. I smirked to myself. I put down the camera and got a pad of paper from the nightstand. I tore off a piece. I got a pen from my backpack and began writing, using the wall for support.

 _Visual bug. They can hear us. Check camera._ I held up the note so that they could see. Alex’s eyes widened while Christen rolled her eyes. Alex picked up the camera, noting the red dot behind the tree outside our window. We’d found the real bug. Christen picked up the pad. She wrote. Shoved the paper in my hand.

 _Visual? Really? Kinda low tech…_ I stifled a chuckle. Alex gestured for the pad.

_Maybe, but undetectable. Nobody would think to check for that. Except you ;)_

I rolled my eyes. I snatched the pad out of her hands.

_We need to manufacture our own vibrations to offset the ones of our voices. Any ideas?_

I held up the pad. Alex cocked an eyebrow and turned to Christen. Christen turned bright red. Alex smirked. She knew exactly the solution.


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh. My. God.” I put my head in my hands to hide my smile. Alex turned from the window after she secured the device with a piece of duct tape, crazy ass grin plastered on her face. Christen sat on the bed, eyes in her lap. 

“A vibrator? Really?” Alex hopped down off of her bed and clapped her hands in pride. 

“Hey, don’t judge. She ended up saving the day. Isn’t that right, Chris?” Alex nudged Christen with her elbow. 

“Why did it have to be a visual bug? Why couldn’t it just be wired in one of the power outlets? Something simple, detectable.” Christen moaned.

“That would be too easy. You guys did a sweep of the place when you first got here, didn’t you?” Alex and Christen looked at me with the same offended expression. 

“Of course we did!” They said in unison. 

“Jeez, okay, sorry I asked.” I held my hands up in defense. 

“At least we’re bug-free. For the time being.” Christen and Alex made similar noises of agreement. Alex looked down at her watch. 

“Crap. Breakfast is in 20 minutes. So much for getting a head start on the breakfast crowd.” Christen collapsed backwards on her bed. 

“Kill me now.” I chuckled. Life with these girls was anything but boring. 


	11. Chapter 11

Alex snapped the rubber band against the inside of her wrist.  

“I hate mornings.” She grumbled. Christen made a small noise of agreement. The chatter of the students sounded eerily like ours-- murmurs of dissatisfaction by the rude awakening we’d all gotten, hushed curses, strangled groans and shouts. Nobody was in the mood for any horseshit on the Headmistress’ part. 

“Good morning, ladies.” Headmistress Ellis took the podium. Bitch. 

Despite our similar negative attitudes, we all snapped to attention. 

“I assume that you are all alert and ready to face the day!” Alex clenched her knife in her hand, piercing the headmistress with a killer glare. 

“Now, I understand that our morning’s wake-up call was a bit difficult to temper. So a special congratulations to those of you who spotted the source and redirected the infrared signals away from your windows. That was truly impressive work.” Headmistress Ellis turned to us and gave us a lukewarm smile; not to be mistaken for actual congratulations. She expected that much of us. We were just the ones that delivered. The praise was short lived. She quickly moved onto the daily agenda, warnings to new students, et cetera. Alex’s glare didn’t waver for one second. She could be terrifying when she wanted to be. I let out a shaky sigh. Those clear blue eyes could harden into ice when they wanted to. 

“I know they call it ‘staring daggers’ for a reason, but jeez Alex. Lighten up a bit.” Christen nudged Alex in the ribs. I glanced between them, trying my best to maintain my distance. Two days and already I could be getting into some deep shit.

“And with that, let’s eat!” Alex, Christen and I stayed put. We’d learned that more often than not the chefs would restock the stations midway through the mad grab, meaning that we didn’t have to fight over the last pancake. 

Another thing I’d learned-- don’t fuck with Christen about her pancakes. 

“Why the hell would she do that? I had only woken up Tobin because I wanted to know if she wanted to beat the shower rush at 7. It was too damn early for Ellis’ particular brand of bullshit.” Alex crossed her arms. 

“God, two days and you’re trying to get Tobin naked. You move quick.” Alex blushed and pursed her lips. 

“Not my intention, dumbass.” Alex said through gritted teeth. She shoved Christen with more force than was probably necessary. I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. Alex picked up on it and snapped her head towards me. My eyes widened. I held up my hands in defense.

“What, it was funny!” I shrugged. Alex scoffed and joined the line snaking through the breakfast bars. Christen smirked and focused her attention to her lap.

“Bet you think you’re  _ real _ fuckin funny right now, Pressy.” I narrowed my eyes at her. She looked up at me, clearly amused.

“Oh, I don’t just think it. I know it, babe.” She winked at me and stood up from the table. I felt my heart thrum in my chest. I leaned my cheek against my hand and watched her stroll away, her hips swinging at a tortuous gait. I shook my head.  _ Fuck _ . 

I was gonna need a cold shower after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! It's been a while since I wrote about my fave imaginary love triangle. But now I'm back on the Recon train, and I hope you are too! As always, preeeeetty please leave me some comments, whether they be positive or negative, ideas for future chapters, or just what's on your mind! Til next time


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to heat up at the Academy  
> Special thanks to theOTPtrash for being such a huge help for this story

I twirled my pencil between my fingers. I had tried to listen. I really had. But hearing about the entire history of the the catapult was mind-numbingly boring. 

“...Started in 1727 when Spain reclaimed Gibraltar. Any questions?” The professor scanned the room for hands. 

“Yes, Miss…” The professor trailed off.

“Klingenberg. Meghan Klingenberg.” That same scratchy voice from yesterday filled the room. I turned my head to look at her. Wide eyes, big smile, dishwater blonde hair thrown haphazardly into a ponytail. I wondered what her story was. And what godforsaken question she could have about the history of the catapult. 

“I was just wondering; how has the construction and design of the catapult changed through the eras?” The professor blinked. He clearly wasn’t expecting anybody to be paying attention.

“That is an… excellent question. Anybody want to take this?” The professor looked around. Alex nudged me with her foot. I whipped around and looked at her. She pointedly mouthed  _ Answer it!  _ I opened my mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the professor. 

“Miss Heath, is there something you’d like to share with the class? Perhaps you can answer Miss Klingenberg’s question.” I turned red. I looked at Meghan, mouth open. I saw her looking at her hands and biting her lip, trying not to smirk. I inhaled deeply.

“As you said, originally the ancient Greeks used the catapult and the crossbow as closely related companions. The bow of the crossbow was thereafter made stronger to shoot projectiles further. The original catapults were standing. Many of the designs we see in recent history, such as those of the Middle Ages, were used to guard castles. Many designs thereafter were altered to suit a wider variety of purposes, such as ballistae, springalds, mangonels, onagers, trebuchets, and couillards. However, the latest use of the catapult was during trench warfare during World War I. While they all are employed with the same fundamental idea, they all serve different purposes. The ballista and springald shot arrows, however the springald was a more compact design, making it more suited to-”  
“Got it. Thanks.” Meghan unclicked her pen and shot a glare at me. The professor’s mouth was hanging wide open.

“Th-thank you, Miss Heath. I’m glad to see someone appreciating the military genius of the catapult!” I smiled at him and leaned back in my chair. The professor turned his back to us and began writing on the board. 

“As Tobin stated, the springald…” I felt Alex kick my chair. I turned around to meet her gaze.

“Dude,” She whispered, looking around to make sure we weren’t being watched.

“Holy shit.” She chuckled in disbelief and shook her head. I faced the front of the room, my self esteem at an all-time high. I let out a quick sigh. This was gonna be a good year. 

______________________________

“Oh my gosh, Tobin! That was really cool! I didn’t know you knew all that stuff about catapults.” One of my classmates (I think Ali was her name) caught stride by me and patted my shoulder.

“Oh, thanks!” I smiled at her.

“Hey, um, I know you’re probably really busy, but I need a tutor. I’m really not good with all this war history stuff.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at me. 

“Yeah, sure, definitely! Just swing by my room anytime.” I patted my pockets and found a pen. I wrote on a piece of looseleaf from my binder and tore off the writing. I checked to make sure I’d spelled everything right. For a genius, I was a horrible speller. I grinned and handed the paper to her. 

“Thanks so much, you’re a lifesaver!” She folded the piece of paper and put it in the pocket of her blazer. She waved and strolled away to her next class. I waited outside the class for Alex, looking for her amongst the bodies spilling out of the room. I sighed and checked my watch. I didn’t want to be late because Alex had to kiss ass to pass her classes. When I looked back in front of me, what I saw was startling. 

“How did you do it?” Meghan looked at me, a scowl on her face. 

“Do what?” I knit my eyebrows and looked at her. 

“ _ That _ . How do you know everything?” She jabbed a finger at me. Because she was seated, I really couldn’t tell her height. But standing toe to toe with me, I knew that she couldn’t be much over five feet tall. 

“I don’t. I just have a specific skill set.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. 

“Whatever. But know this-” She leaned closer to me, her face turning more and more red by the second. 

“I  _ will _ figure you out.” She poked my chest gently with her finger. She scoffed and turned on her heel, and just like that, she was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a small gear-up to some real action that's coming your way soon. As always, comments, ideas, and suggestions are all welcome!


	13. Chapter 13

I entered my next class slightly less shaken, but no less confused by Meghan’s comments. I took my regular seat and began getting out the materials I needed for class; my throwing knives, napalm, agent orange, and a small strip of paper used for melting skin that Professor Foudy called “The Ex-Wife”. 

I laid out my materials and paused. I was still puzzled.  _ I will figure you out? _ What kind of a threat was that? I shook my head and chalked it up to competition.  _ Yes, Tobin, competition. You’re at spy school now. You’re competing for more than a grade. _ I shook my head and quickly abandoned the thought. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see Christen with that trademark smile of hers. I sat up in my seat. 

“Can I borrow a pencil?” She asked, biting her lip. Every thought in my head evaporated. I blinked at her for a solid 3 seconds, totally caught off guard by the deceptively simple question. My mouth went dry. She smiled, unfazed by my absolute failure at forming a coherent sentence.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I said. I turned and fumbled with my bag. I dug around the bottom, grabbing at various bric-a-brac.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck, where was it?  _ I finally got a hand on the pencil and snapped back up in my seat. I turned to face her.

“Here you go.” I said, forcing a smile. She beamed back at me.

“Thank you!” She twirled the pencil in her hand. I nodded curtly and turned back around. I let out a sigh. This girl was gonna be the death of me. 

“Okay, class!” Professor Foudy snapped me back to attention.  _ Yes, Tobin, class. You’re here for school. School. Learning. Academia. Spying… Shit like that.  _

“Today we’re going to discuss everyone’s favorite topic,” She picked up a piece of chalk from the metal slat just below the chalkboard. In looping, girlish cursive she wrote--

_ Napalm!  _

Yeah, she actually put an exclamation point in there.

Immediately we all squirmed in our seats. I smiled gently to myself. I always had a gift with explosives. Considering all of us were taking this same class, I assumed they did too. I crossed my legs and tapped the desk with my pencil, awaiting a question I’d no doubt know. 

“Now who can tell me what napalm is composed of?” All the hands in the room shot up. Professor Foudy chuckled to herself. She pushed her thick framed glasses up her nose,

“You’re an eager bunch.” She cocked a hip and leaned against the lab table. She scanned the room before settling on the seat across from me. 

“Yes, Whitney, is it?” She beamed. 

“Yes ma’am.” She nodded. 

“Napalm is just gellied fuel. The basic formula includes petrol, aluminum salts, and palmitic acids for gelling.” She leaned her head against her hand and crossed her legs under the table.

“Very good, Ms. Engen!” Professor Foudy turned back to the board. Whitney let out a long breath and smoothed her hair back. She focused her attention on the board. 

“Like Ms. Engen said, napalm is made of three primary ingredients.” She began writing furiously on the board. I scrambled for a sheet of paper in my notebook. I felt a tap on my back. I turned to see Christen holding a sheet of paper in front of me. I blushed and grinned sheepishly. 

“Uh, um, thanks.” She chuckled and shook her head. 

“What would you do without me, Heath?” I smirked. 

“I hope I never have to find out.” She grinned.

“You and me both, babe,” She winked at me. My mouth went dry almost immediately. I took the paper and turned back around to face the board, trying to avoid further attention I’d drawn. I tried to listen in on the lecture, but the chattering of the students behind me caught my attention first.

“Furthermore, even napalm, even in its most damaging form, I’m sure, couldn’t stop Tobin and Christen from flirting with each other.” A few students snickered. I blushed. What were they talking about? I wasn’t flirting. 

Was I?

My heart started to thump in my chest. I eyed the clock. 18 minutes. I sank in my seat and tried to focus on the lecture, but Professor Foudy’s words fell on deaf ears. All I could think about was that remark from the back of the classroom. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I heard Christen let out a small groan from stretching. This girl was going to kill me. 


	14. Chapter 14

 

I stood behind one of the abandoned lab benches and pulled my book out from my bag.  _ The Beginner’s Guide to Bombmaking _ . Written by Professor Foudy herself, of course. Each student was assigned a different chemical that we had to perfect in a stable form. Mine? Homemade sticky bomb. Easy peasy. Professor Foudy stood behind her lab bench, her Erlenmeyer flasks teetering dangerously off the edge. I was partially surprised that woman hadn’t burned her own eyebrows off by now with the amount of close calls she’s had. But it was hard not to be impressed by her. Rumor was that she held a gambit of Syrian warlords with a tire iron, duct tape, and superglue. She could probably make something go  _ boom _ with a paperclip and a lukewarm can of Sprite. I shook my head and turned to the table of contents, searching for the sticky bomb recipe. I felt the fresh spine of the book crack under my fingers. I smiled to myself. The glossy pages felt new and slick under my skin. I felt almost guilty turning the page. The chattering of students around me bounced and echoed off the smoothed brick walls. I hooked my ankle around the leg of the stool and pulled it out from under the table. I smoothed my skirt against my thighs, preparing to sit down. But before I could take a seat, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Christen looked at me sheepishly.

“Do you have a lab partner?” She asked quietly. I shook my head no and pulled out the stool next to me. She smiled and thanked me quietly. She pulled out her own book, the same edition as mine, but much more worn. The stitching had begun to fray and the pages had lost their luster. The pages turned smoothly, littered with dogeared corners and coffee rings. She landed on the same page as me, the margins already packed in tightly in her neat cursive. Her delicate fingers traced the words on the page. I gulped and looked at the fluorescent lights flickering above me. Christen bumped my shoulder with her own. I had to grab the edge of the table so I wouldn’t fall over. I couldn’t hide the blush that fell over my cheeks. I turned to her, my tie suddenly feeling far too tight around my neck. 

“Thanks.” I said plainly. I mentally smacked myself.  _ Thanks? Brilliant. Fucking perfect _ . Before I could berate myself even further, Professor Foudy called our attention to the front of the room and I immediately sat up in my seat. I pulled my hair into a loose bun.

“If your copy of the book hasn’t come in yet, you can share with a partner. It’s not exactly something you can order off of Amazon, so you could probably ask an upperclassman. They’d be willing to share.” Professor Foudy strolled to the yellow metal cabinet labelled  _ Biochemical Hazard _ and deftly unlocked the front. She stood to the side, holding her hands out graciously. 

“Go nuts!” Christen and I shot out of our seats, trying to beat the rest of the classroom to the cabinet. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bitch (me) is back

“What the hell are we gonna do?” Christen muttered as she pushed up her sleeves. She dusted her hands on the shiny black apron that hung around her neck. Stray hair fell over her forehead as she mixed the ingredients together to make a serviceable sticky bomb. I twirled my pencil in my hand and racked my brain trying to think of ways to conceal a biohazard. Every single episode of NCIS flashed through my head at once, but there was still nothing. Christen wiped the spatula on the side of the beaker and let out a sigh. The overhead lights danced off her protective glasses when she turned to face me.

“Everybody got the good stuff. Ali keeps her fucking mouthguard on her in case she needs to make a bomb. Who does that?” She whispered harshly.   
“I’m out of ideas. That’s it. I’m gonna flunk.” Christen threw up her hands and collapsed on the lab stool. I rested my elbow on the table and swiped my pencil across the paper, marking out the measly list of items I’d compiled. 

Professor Foudy had really outdone herself on this one. Not only did we need to make a sticky bomb, we had to make a sticky bomb  _ that could pass a TSA screening _ . And that wasn’t even the worst part. We were only allowed to use items that were already in the classroom. No visit to the demolition room. No rummaging through our suitcases. It was our first class and she had already asked us to do the impossible.

“What kind of a person make a bomb out of a mouthguard?” Christen muttered, smoothing her hair back and tightening her ponytail.

“A genius,” I said glumly. Christen snorted.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She laid her hands flat on the table and took the pencil out of my hand. She balanced it between her teeth and twisted the end of her ponytail. I looked at her quizzically. She grinned, shoving the pencil through the bun she created. The point broke through the other end of her hair, giving the illusion that she’s been stabbed in the head. I held in a laugh. She turned back to the table and scratched her neck. Violin hickey on full display. I gulped. 

“I’m gonna go look for some stuff. Do you need anything?” She thought for a moment, but pursed her lips and shook her head.

“I’m good. Thanks, Tobs.” She offered me a sad smile. I nodded and turned from the table. I wiped my hands on my skirt, hoping that the itchy wool would absorb the moisture from my palms. Being around Christen always made me sweat.  _ Christen _ . I looked over at her, her head in her hands and almost on the verge of tears. She had been pushing herself so hard to make magic in the lab. Poor girl didn’t know that she was only human. 

My eyes scanned the room, looking for something, anything we could use to hide the fact that we had an entire guerrilla warfare infantry unit on our person. Then it clicked. 

_ The janitor’s closet. _

Tucked away in a dimly lit corner. Nobody had even thought about looking in there. There was probably a goldmine of chemical mayhem in there; Ammonia, bleach, pressurized containers-- But I had to focus. There would be times for more bombs later. I darted to the janitor’s closet with so much purpose that Christen called after me to ask where I was going. I gripped the rusty handle and threw the door open to find--

Nothing. It was empty except for a yellow bin and a single, sad mop propped up on the door. I shook my head and turned around. I was about to walk back to our lab bench when it hit me. The mop.

We could apply the plaster to the top and seal it with plastic wrap. Put it facedown in the bucket. It wouldn’t get a second glance. 

I dove back into the closet and grabbed the mop bucket, the wheels squeaking at the sudden use after such a prolonged period of dormancy. The door slammed shut behind me and I ran to our lab bench. Christen looked at me quizzically. 

“We could use the mop. It would hide the spackle. We can wrap it in plastic wrap and cover it with water. It would stick it to any surface. Totally inconspicuous.” I blurted. She looked at me, then at the mop. Then back at me. She broke into a grin.

“Tobin. You are a genius.” Christen said in disbelief. I chuckled. 

“Only trying to keep up with you.” I said sheepishly. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Christen was easily the most intelligent person at this school. Minus Becky Sauerbrunn, but she was a senior. And going to Harvard. And she had a 5.0. And a rumored IQ of 195. But really, who could beat Becky Sauerbrunn? Probably not even Stephen Hawking.

“Well, that’s sweet of you,” She turned away from me, attempting to hide the ruddy blush that stained her cheeks. She picked up the spatula and swiped thick globs of the explosive across the musty head of the mop. I unrolled a long piece of Saran wrap and began to cover the apparatus. Christen’s hand clasped over mine as her teeth tore the last of the Saran wrap off of the role. She grinned at me. “You just saved our asses.”

You know that feeling where you haven’t really said anything all day and suddenly you’re thrust into a social situation and you suddenly forget how to talk? Yeah. That was my situation.

“Et-uh, thanks.” I stuttered. 

It was in that exact moment that I wanted to die.

Almost on cue, Professor Foudy clapped her hands together and screamed, “Time! Put down your weapons!” Christen and I let out a sigh of relief, glancing at each other. We actually did it. 


	16. Chapter 16

“And she used the  _ fucking mop _ ,” Christen jabbed a finger at me as she leaned in closer to the table, locking eyes with Alex. Alex cropped an eyebrow as she took another bite of her apple. 

“Damn Heath. Didn’t think you had it in you,” Alex grinned at me and uncrossed her legs under the table. I shrugged.

“It was no big deal, really.” I was lying. It was a huge deal. Christen laughed incredulously. 

“Are you kidding? I would’ve failed that test without you. It was a  _ huge _ deal, Tobs.” She put a hand on my shoulder and met my eyes. My eyes flitted to my plate. Her hand slid down my arm and she picked up her spoon. I let out a breath. Even through the starched cotton of my shirt I could feel her body heat. I ached for that sensation, that warmth that she brought to me. I’d never tell her that, of course. Admitting it out loud was a mountain I wasn’t ready to climb. Hell, I wasn’t ready to climb a hill.

I don’t think people truly appreciate how hard it is being a lesbian at an all-girls school. Much less an all-girls school where your roommate could perform a perfect Bexler-Hadley maneuver and make it hurt to  _ blink _ for a few weeks. Not that just being around these girls made it any easier to perform basic human functions. I turned into a walking ragdoll around these women whenever I got near them. I stabbed my salad with my fork. It was hard keeping it all a secret. But better a secret than having Alex or Christen look at me with disgust, like I was a criminal. No, this was the best option. Alex’s voice drew me back into the conversation at hand.

“That was pretty baller, Tobs, not gonna lie.” Alex said between chewing her apple. I felt my cheeks color. Alex didn’t give out compliments. Praise was easy. Impression, well, that was a whole ‘nother story. Christen grimaced as Alex’s loud crunches became more and more pronounced.

“Anyone ever told you it’s rude to talk when you’re chewing?” Christen picked at one of the dinner rolls on her plate. Alex snorted.

“Yeah, but I’m cute so they don’t care.” She swallowed her apple and tilted her head, shooting her a deceptively adorable grin. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was a church-going cheerleader from California. But then I saw the devilish glint in her eye when Christen kicked her underneath the table. Alex’s leg curled underneath the bench and swung forward at full force, earning a solid  _ thump _ as shoe connected with bone.  Suddenly Christen let out a yelp.

“ _ Alex _ ,” She hissed. She bent down to rub her shin.

“That was way too hard!” She grimaced as she touched where Alex had basically pistol-whipped her with the heel of her shoe. Alex shrugged.

“You kick me, I kick back. You know the rules,” Alex swished her ponytail behind her shoulder and took another bite of her apple.

“If you leave a bruise, I swear to God…” Christen trailed off as she dunked a napkin in her water and applied it to her leg. Alex rolled her eyes.

“Why are you being so dramatic? It was barely a tap,” Alex insisted, holding out her apple-laden hand incredulously. Alex’s focus shifted to me, rolling her eyes so hard that I had to imagine it hurt a little. I bit my lip to hold in a chuckle. Although Christen was a spy, she was still soft when compared to the tour de force that was Alex. No, scratch that.  _ Everyone _ was soft when compared to Alex. The girl was born with bones of steel and Kevlar skin. Although she was half the size of a normal human, she packed a bigger punch than almost all of the girls at school. She was easily the hardest person to win against in a sparring match. And I’d fought  _ Hope _ . Alex stifled a yawn as she pushed her plate away from her.

“Well, I’m stuffed. You guys wanna go back up to the room?” Christen and I glanced at each other for a minute, eventually shrugging and agreeing to retreat.


	17. Engame ships?

Hey, my people! 

As of right now, I'm not sure which ship is gonna be endgame in this story. So if y'all could help me out and comment below, that would be great! You can even throw some curveballs in there just to mix it up a little :-)

Or I could write a split story, where Tobin dates them both, just not in the same universe. Like write the same chapters but with different relationships. Does that make any sense? I dunno. Tell me down below what you guys wanna see.

As always, love you guys and thanks so much for reading!


	18. Engame ships!

Ok so commenting was a pretty mixed bag-- an overwhelming amount of you guys wanted Preath, but I saw a few Talex recommendations thrown in there. But because it was rather inconclusive, I'm gonna go with the polyamory trope. It's hard to find a healthy, non-toxic polyamorous relationship on here so I'd like to kick that off. I like Tobin with Press better, personally, but I understand why some would want Talex as well. So I'm just gonna try to do the best of both worlds and try my best to write polyamory. I myself am polyamorous but I've never been in a relationship with polyamory (the person I date isn't usually in love with the idea. But I digress). I think it'll be a fun adventure, and I hope you guys enjoy :) Next chapter should be up within the week!


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